Role of the Dice
by deadliving
Summary: AU. The World is a big place. Over 100 million animals alone. 100 million stories. But here are two with a bit of heart and a hell of a lot of morphine.
1. Prologue 1

**Another AU?**

**WTF Deadliving?**

**Isn't this the kind of reckless behavior that lead you to build up a stockpile of useless never-updated stories?**

**Yes Yes it is.**

**Prologue!**

**Guess who's identity is screwed with in this story.**

The EMTs rushed the patient on her respective stretcher to the ER. Nurses shout across the hall to each other, all talking about the welfare of the patient. The patient herself was in a daized, almost weightless state of lucidity. The Stretcher raced along until it turned into the Intensive care unit. The Stretcher was wet with her blood, and one nurse had almost slipped in it. The Doctors rushed, cutting holes in her body and inserting tubes, which began pumping seconds after insertion.

The Doctors worked tirelessly for an hour keeping her body systems well enough to support the others. She lost almost a pint of blood, which had been quickly recovered through artificial means. After the men in the room had wiped the sweat from their brows, word came in that shocked the doctors.

"Dr. Jake," the kitten nurse said to the Larger cat. The Doctor gave the kitten a peircing look.

"What is it now, we only just got the patients stable." he barks.

The Kitten peeps up once again "Sir, it's about Jane Doe."

The Grey and White cat looks up. "And, who is it!" he demands.

"The Jane Doe's name is Mime Peiper, and she's a he."

* * *

**Prologue 1 complete**


	2. Prologue 2

**He awoke in a Darkroom, blood dripping from both nostrils. His hair was wet from perspiration and oil, and it oozed the gunk like a dripping faucet. His glasses were broken and sat at an odd angle on his large nose. One might've mistaken him for an Indian or Mexican, but the blood flowing from his nose was like a vat Humans of all races and nationality had spat into. But it was now soured upon the feces covered floor. He was bent over, sitting on a chair with his hands tied behind his back.**

**He looks up as an Albino man, no older than 18, and a Green beaver with fucked up teeth enter the room. Following them was a Giant floating Bacteria with an old Navy uniform. The Protozoan and Albino stood on either side of the door. The Albino had a hunting rifle, and the Bacterium carried a Bowie Knife. The Beaver walked forward, pulling from behind his back a metal bat. He stopped a few feet from the man, just close enough to hit the man with the baseball bat.**

**"Now, Mr. McKinley, is it? May I call you Ian?" He spoke with a German Accent, which held sway over much of the sounds he made. "We know you have done something with a man by the name of WKD."**

**"I'm not Ian. I didn't do anything with Will!"**

**The Albino fires a bullet overhead. "Oh really little Mexican Boy? Well We have ways of finding out what you really did with WKD." His Russian accent was as deeprooted as the Beaver's German.**

**The Man swallows a gulp of air. Fritz strikes him in the face with the bat. his glasses go flying across the room.**

**"Where is he you peice of Shit!" He beats the bat over the man's back. He yells in agony. "DEADLIVING DOES NOT UPDATE LIKE THIS! HE IS A LAZY SHIT HOLE WHO LOVES TO MAKE THE REVIEWERS SUFFER!"**

**"Good Jesus, You don't get it!" he shouted through the pounding of the bat on his back. Blood spurted from his nose. His black hair flicked forward when the bat hit, sending gunk forward.**

**"Fritz, let me have a go." the Bacteria says with a Swahili accent.**

**"I gladly oblige, Ricky." He says smiling. The Bacteria floats forward, and gives the man a rat's smile ear to ear. Blood spurts form the open wound, and he yowls in pain.**

**"YOU IDIOTS! I AM DEADLIVING, WKD!" Their eyes open wide. Ricky cuts WKD looses, who rub his bleeding temples. WKD sits down at a computer no one had seen in that spot moments before. He grunts and Grumbles angrily as he types up the next chapter.**

**"You three are lucky I don't rid the world of you. I torture reviewers because I like it, not because I'm lazy. Fucking beaver..."**

**The three crowd around when he finishes to examine the work. It read:**

Nutty looked up at the somber, grim visage of the Honorable Judge Splendor. The Blue squirrel shot a scorning look upon the Squirrel. "Under the circumstances, son, You should be on your way to a detention center printing license plates in New Jersey at the moment. You should thank your attorney for giving such a good plea bargain."

Nutty looks over at Disco Bear who gives him a smile.

"Now, you go forth with counselor Gigglies and complete your scheduled community service." The Blue squirrel says, waving the gavel about, until finally smashing it onto the table. Nutty wearily turns to see the pink chipmunk, Gigglies was the name, he believed. Nutty jumps when Splendor bellows "Court dismissed."

Gigglies and Nutty meet outside the courthouse. She smiles at the dazed and wobbly squirrel. "So, Nathaniel, I am Gigglies, as said in the courthouse by the honorable Judge Splendor." she hands the squirrel a sheet of looseleaf paper, with notes scribbled all over the page. He squinted at the paper, for the purple he took this morning was taking into affect, and making him sleepy.

"Sleepy? Sleep sounds nice right now..." Nutty asks wozily, proceeding to drop to the steps. Cracking his head open on the steps, sending his bouncy, psyched-out brain bounding into the street. Gigglies screams, pleading to noone in particular for an ambulance.

**"Prologue part 2 over, Prologue complete." WKD says, smiling.**

**"I found it wonderful. A Tranny dies and so does a Drug addict!" The Albino, Sid, cheeps.**

**"STFU you loves seeing everybody die." WKD snaps.**

**"Why is Mime a Tranny?" Ricky asks.**

**I'm not in this story, am I?" Fritz whines.**

**Deadliving pulls out an eraser. The three gasp in shock, and begin to back away.**

**"You have to the count of 5 to flee from the eraser, and If you ever screw with me or my author notes again, I will erase you." The three drop their respective weapon and turn tail and run.**

**"1, 2...5." WKD shrugs"I guess this is what you get from the lowest education standard of industrialized nations..."**

**"Review or you will be erased as well."**


	3. Super K

**There was a knock at the door, and Linus opened the door. A Man, not the slimmest of men, and a Koala, not too thin either, with fedoras, suits and sunglasses darkened the doorway.**

**The Little South African Boy looks up at them. "George..."**

**The Man opens his mouth, grim expression never changing. "Sir, we are here to inform you your creator has broken atleast 6 Animator/Author Mandates. Would you please tell us where he is."**

**George stands behind Linus, with a 100 yard stare his old vet buddy, Jeremy, taught him. "Yes, Sirs?" He asks.**

**The Conversation to Linus becomes a blur, instead he was looking between the koala and the doorframe. A Crocodile was standing by the car, who gave a passing glance at the child. A white Rabbit was tying up Fisch and Scoop to the tree across the street. **

**The Koala snaps, and Linus looks up into his glasses. Linus saw no emotion in the black glass. His ears picked up the conversation again. "Mondo Media holds sway over Grimmsville as inspiration. We will return if Deadliving returns."**

**George's face was drained of blood. Tod was watching from the livingroom sofa. The Door is shut and George runs to his bunker in the backyard. He throws open the metal doors to find WKD huddled in a corner naked.**

**"Get the Fuck out of Grimmsville, Go to Zweistadt, or Hetalia, Cartoon X-overs, even!"**

**He leaps up into the air, laughing madly. "ESTA TIEMPO PROFANO!" He shouts. He uses his infinite powers to disappear into a Different Dimension.**

**George sighs, "Why couldn't I have been created by Lacheetara. She has the sanity Willy lacks."**

Nutty awakens to the stacatto beat of the flourescent lights. Another steady beat arises, this time probably his pulse rate. His eyes flutter open, to the scorching light of the lights above. He let loose a small cough, which garnered the Nurse's attention.

Dionaea, a blue skunk who wore a Tobacco Flower in her ear, and a Cinnamon scented Air Freshener around her neck, came over, first glaring at the monitor with his pulse rate.

"Vital signs alright," she says in a distant voice, as if he weren't there. She then turns to him with a toothy smile, obviously feigned. "How are you doing today Mr. Saccharum?"

She was certainly new to this kind of occupation. Surnames is so Noobish. Atleast she wasn't one of those churlish, bubble-gum chewers, that can text the Devil's Bible to their friends in under 5 seconds. Those people annoyed the shit out of Nutty. If one was sitting next to him on the bus, he'd pop a ketamine pill.

Ketamine was his wonder drug. If he only ate one tablet, he'd be able to tone down his audacious antics caused by hyperactivity. Two and the world would disappear. Three tablets was like an orgasm in his brain. If he took one more though, he'd have horrible headaches though, and would bleed from his nose. Five, those effects would be skipped and he goes into fits.

When he didn't get his Ketamine, it usually played out like in front of the courthouse. _Withdraw_ Snortly called it. Snortly would wave his blue anteater paw in Nutty's face and he would scold _"Ketamine is not good at all!"_

Super K was fucking awesomer than that nerdy blue anteater anyday. Purple was Nutty's trampoline. It kept him flying even if it was with Snr. Fairy.

Gigglies ran into the room, like she was crying bloody murder. Like a squealing pig, Nutty thought. "Oh, Nathaniel, thank heavens you are alright! I was worried sick about you. Withdrawl, what an irony!" she shouts, to let even God on his high pedestal hearken to her voice. "We've made you better, and within a day, you'll be completing community service like nothing happened."

Something _did_ happen. Nutty was no longer able to drop vitamin C so easily anymore. And Nutty hoped to god something would happen that excuses him from the community service.

"May I ask why you were shooting Ecstasy before your judgement in court?" Gigglies demands.

Nutty picks up his limp arms and pokes his throat with his forefinger. "Asthma." He says. Ketamine was used clinically to help asthmatics. He truly was an Asthmatic. But Asthma to Nutty was what cancer was to Oxycotin abusers. In the words of an old comic book character by the name of Corrine Sanders, _'It was a crying shame, having this disease, but with these drugs, frankly dear I don't give a damn_."

Nutty notices Flowers on the table next to him. Some where obviously sent from Splendor, whose job it was to cheer up HTFs, and others, of course, from his mom.

Looking over, he noticed another person in the bed adjacent his. She was a purple deer, with white face paint, partially washed off or stained by blood. She wasn't older than 14 if that.

She wasn't pretty, mostly cause if he thought she was pretty in the way he thought of alot of girls as pretty, he'd be a pedophile. Even so he could not help thinking she was different from everybody else.

"Nurse." Nutty asks in a rapsy voice. Dionaea turns to see Nutty gesturing over to the girl. She rolls her eyes.

"She's a he. Mime Peiper, to be exact."

Nutty looks over once again. "Mime Peiper," he says, mulling over the words with his tongue. He'd get to know this person tommorow, blowing off all responsibilty.

"Mime Peiper..."

**William looks around. **

**There was PigeonJesus and Spawn Fish staring upon him. "You sucked." PigeonJesus said frankly.**

**"Perhaps you suck. I mean you're PigeonJesus, you aren't exactly a popstar." William barks.**

**"Spawning Time." Spawn Fish says. PigeonJesus slaps him.**

**"If our Author note surpasses the chapter in length, The Council of Authors will destroy us and you." PigeonJesus explains.**

**"well then should these people be reviewing instead of reading our conversation?" Spawn Fish asks.**

**...**

***PigeonJesus holds out a plate of Sushi***

**Sushi before you review?**


	4. Zweisamkeit

**WKD leans closer to Sniffles and Dexter, ****who are finishing each other's sentences.**

**"Well, if you Take this Ketamine," the red-head goes in a slavic/tuetonic accent.**

**"...then you can successfully avoid Phoenix." the Blue anteater finishes.**

**WKD looks at them with a confused look.**

**Both sigh in unison. "Deadliving, you'll escape Other Authors."**

**Deadliving/WKD smiles. "Awesome." He pauses a moment, remembering what he learned from Law and Order SVU.**

**"Isn't Ketamine a Daterape drug!" the Mixed teen shouts in disbelief.**

**"I prefer Sedatives to this 'Date-rape'. " Dexter says, rolling his eyes at the sound rolling off his tongue.**

**Sniffles continues. "Take the sedatives and-"**

**FlippedOutSoldier bursts through the door. Her eyes glowed like burning embers.**

**"You got the Fucking ChickenPox to SUE ME!"**

**WKD gives a cheeky smile, before running away, pursued by Flipped Out Soldier and Phoenix Reece.**

Nutty awoke in his hospital bed once again. He examines his immediate surroundings. He was in a Hospital bed, _From collapsing outside the Courthouse,_ he thought. He glances around. In the bed adjacent to his was the Mime girl.

She had purple headfur that came down to her shoulders, and a white mask of powder, along with some black markings, like a stereotypical mime. her heart shaped nose was a pale pink, as if she had lost a great sum of Blood. _But she is still really damn beautiful, _Nutty thinks to himself.

Dionaea bustled around the room, maintaining the pinging monitors, not paying attention to either of the two patients until Mime uttered a gasp.

Dionaea rushed to her side, checking her pulse, even though the frequent pings of the monitor over her bed said it was fine, and patted the fawn lightly upon the head.

"Are you awake, Mime?" she asks in a maternal voice. _No Shit_, Nutty thought. Even though her shallow questioned begged for that blue skunk to be slapped across the face, it was genuinely out of the depths of her heart.

Mime nods. Her hair bounces like curtains tossed about it the wind.

Dionaea smiles. "Are you alright?"

Mime's eye widen like saucers, so even Nutty could see her bright purple eyes. Even Air-headed Dionaea could read that expression.

"You were hit by Presidential Canidate Bumpy's Limousine. You lost a lot of blood, and your left kidney burst, but you're alright now."

Mime's expression said it all: Her face was twisted into a state of distraught terror, mouth agape in a silent gasp, Eyes pleading for an alternative, and concave eyebrows.

Mime tried to spring up from her bed, and Dionaea put a hand on Mime's chest, pushing her down again. Once again, Mime pushed forward, attempt quelled by Dionaea's stern hand. Nutty looked in awe at the perturbed deer, struggling to call for someone, only to have a Skunk keep her down. Out of Mime's throat came a small raspy noise, like the voice was as restricted as she was at that moment.

A Knock halts the three. Dionaea glances at the door, as did Nutty, to behold a Grey cat with a spelunker's torch strapped to his forehead. He waved at Dionaea, who spun around, with a toothy smile, arms behind her back, like all good nurses. Mime was panting like a dog, as she let the Grey cat in.

"Er, Mime, Dr. Damien Jacobs is here to see you." she smiles at the fawn.

Nutty watches as the Grey cat walks over to the side of her bed. "Hello Ma'am." he says in a british accent. As much as Nutty detested all accents, this one was suave, fluent, like a knife cutting butter. "I, as dear Dionaea said before," he says motioning to the skunk who was now rubbing her hands in hand sanitizer, "...am Dr. Damien Jacobs. You can call me Jake, though."

Mime glares at him, unsure of how to react. Nutty watches from the comfort of his pillows. Both Nurse and Doctor ignored him.

"Now, Ma'am, we are aware of your_ predicament, _and we are working to make those responsible pay. Do you have any relatives or close friends you can stay with until this whole thing is settled?" He inquires.

Mime nods, and leans forward to take hold of the pen and pad Jake held out for her. She scribbled down a name and number, then handed the pad back to Jake.

He nods "Thank you, Mime. we hope your little problem can be solved." Both Jake and Dionaea leave the room.

Nutty sits up in his bed, and Mime gasps. "Hello, Mime." he says, calmly.

She frowns at him, glancing at the pen on the desk. It looked mighty fine as a weapon, she thought.

"Don't shank me, Imma nice person over here!" Nutty pleads, shrugging and holding his arms out. "So, you in trouble with the law?" he asks with a smile.

Mime's eyes grow to saucers, and she reaches for the pen. Nutty flicks out his foot, and kicks it away.

He rolls up his sleeves to reveal numerous needle entries, and Mime furrows an eyebrow. "I'm going to court when this is over too." Mime sits herself back in the bed.

"I'm going 'cause I was caught with Ketamine." He proceeds to explain. "I have asthma and ADD. I'd truly be a menace to society, a wheezy Nutjob."

Mime snickers breifly, before returning to silence.

"Now you know I'm a junkie, what are you going to the Court of Miracles for?" Nutty asks.

Mime leaps out of bed, walking unsteadily over to the pen Nutty kicked across the room. She takes it, and grabs a slip of paper from the table in the corner of the room, and scribbles upon it.

She hands it to Nutty, who reads it. "Ward of the state. My Parents were Drug dealers aswell."

He re-examines the note, looking at Mime once or twice, before asking, "Are you a Crack Baby?"

Mime shakes her head, disgusted at the very thought.

She snatches the note, and scribbles some more upon the paper. Nutty read aloud once again. "My parents raised me as Girl. they didn't want me to be a drug dealer boy." Mime blushes, and Nutty nods, raising his eyebrows.

She frowns, and turns away. "Oy, " Nutty snaps. She turns around.

"Don't matter if you're a Girl, Boy, or Intersex." He says encouragingly, "Just don't make to much of a fuss 'bout it or you're just an attention whore." She smiles.

"And between you and me, you are stunning." He adds, with a sly, almost cocky grin.

She returns the smile.

Even the Shallow idiot that is Dionaea could tell the two had just become friends.

**WKD glances around. A little English boy with a stereotypical sailor uniform. He had blonde hair and thick eyebrows, and a seagull perched itself upon the boy's shoulder.**

**"Looking for someone?" He asks.**

**"If a man named Phoenix and a girl named Flipped Out Soldier come by, tell them I am hiding in Israel." he says, voice heeding his jittery attitude. And with that, the Multiracial boy runs away.**

**The Boy glances around. **

**Hallow and Chunky appear from behind the Little Boy. "Thank you for letting us hide behind you." Hallow says. **

**The Little Boy just nods and smiles.**

**"It's no problem as long as you acknowledge Sealand is a country." He says, handing them Sealand pins. The two then go running after WKD.**

**YOUR VITAL REGIONS WILL BE MINE IF YOU DO NOT REVIEW!**


	5. BumpyFritzl '10

**Hehe! No one will find me in Yiddish Alaska!**

**Officer Meyer Landsmen: Yeah, We're deporting you to a different timeline, one with a big fat ugly POLEWANK!**

**Oh God, those things are IMPOSSIBLE!**

**Landsmen: Not as Impossible as you becoming an Author.**

**Shut up...**

Mime left with her, or his to you homophobes, best friend Wooly. She was a purple lamb, with a white wool sweater. Nice woman, from the looks of things. She said please and thank you, spoke politely, and excused herself when she bumped into things. Nutty knew that even schizophrenics could act nice, after killing a person.

Wolly entered the room and glared at Nutty laying in the bed. Her face contorted into one of disgust. "Nutty, Good day." She spat, trying not to sound churlish.

Nutty returned the face, along with an extra finger flipping her off.

After exchanging a word with Dr. Jake about Mime, the two were off. Nutty popped some more Ketamine, and dosed off.

* * *

The Green Beaver puffed hastily on his pipe. They had been out of style since the State of Prussia collapsed, but it was much healthier in contrast to _Zigarettes,_ as he'd say in German. It didn't matter whether it was a _Zigarette_, Pipe, or Snus, he wasn't supposed to take any type of Drug during the campaign.

How could it be Bumpy/Fritzl '10 if Fritzl had Lung cancer or AIDS?

Such a thing would ruin his career. In the safety of his house, he reasoned, not a soul could smell it now.

Bumpy/Fritzl '10 would make healthier standards of living, religious tolerance, a crack down on drugs and violence, and they'd annex filthy Tilder Springs. They'd also get rid of GLBTs...through force if necesary. Such people rape little children. Homosexual parents _would_ molest their child or their friends. Such people spread AIDs and Syphilis and TB. Such people cause shame from Hetalialand and Carebears for their tolerance of the _obviously_ destructive Homosexuals.

Bumpy/Fritzl, or rather Bumpy, would certainly make sure such ridicule would be quelled.

Fritzl was already intimidating Gays, Lesbians, and all the other Homoseckshuals. Running over that Tranny would certainly give the GLBT community are reason to tremble when the Names 'Bumpy/Fritzl' were uttered.

_Fritzl persued this prey for almost 10 minutes. She had put up quite the chase. Alas, that persuit was not to continue, and He was catching up to her/him. He skimpy little skirt parely concealed the fat legs of a boy. She turned the corner, and the Right bumper nipped her calf, and she went down. _

_She was crawling away, and Fritzl reversed, and laughed as the SUV bounced over her body. He drives away, but not before dialing up Bumpy. "Sir," he spoke into the cellphone. "The Deed is done." _

_"Excellent." Returns his voice. _

Fritzl never thinks much of it other than a Pathway to the imminent victory that is Bumpy/Fritzl '10

**WKD looks out from the Nuclear State of Zambia's shoreline. The Poorly constructed jeeps parade Nuclear weapons from The Capital to the launch sites. They'd be hitting Moscow, Capetown, Pretoria, and Tel-Aviv.**

**"God these Zambians became stupid when they got the bomb," he thought aloud.**

**Landsmen looks at WKD in Contempt. "Hey, I could've sent you to The Confederate States of America!"**

**"Can you drop me off in Prussia?" he asks. **

**The Yiddish man shoots him in the foot, before disappearing back to his home timeline.**

**(I do NOT advocate anything Fritzl thought about)**

**We'll send you to The CSA if you don't review.**


	6. Hard Working Slackoff

**"Sweet Danny and Lisa!" WKD mumbles, blood gushing from a wound in his forehead.**

**"Take me away from the Strangest Places!" He recites.**

**A Man comes riding up with a Camel, with an assault rifle nestled in his arms.**

**WKD looks up into his eyes. "Are you Lawrence of Arabia?"**

**"No, I am Erwin Rommel. Afrika Panzerarmee." He points his assault rifle at WKD.**

**"I vas hired by WestVirginaRebel to bring you to the Author Counsel."**

**"Damn, EVERYBODY is after me..."**

Gigglies offered Nutty volunteer work at the Homeless Shelter, community center, and as a Flyer distributer.

His Job at a Homeless shelter was quite monotonous: Placing a blob of soup on the people's bowl, and catering to the old and disabled. It was such a drag, Nutty stopped taking ketamine for those few hours to make things fly by. As a side affect, it made him chipper and a tad bit annoying.

The Community center had him running around, doing busywork. He was usually caring for snot-wiping Children or sexually active teens who made lewd jokes about the older drug addict bustling around the Community center. Nutty almost ODs on Ketamine to drown out the ignorance of the people.

The thing he enjoyed most, was distributing flyers. You just had to put some papers in a person's mailbox, and show up at a designated location at a certain time. If you distribute all of your flyers, you can go anywhere you want, as long as you return.

Nutty knew where Wooly lived, and passed by numerous times before he worked up the courage to go Romeo it, and Climb to Mime's window.

There was no ladder or drainage pipe, just traditional Boston Ivy. Wild Wine as the Europeans called it. It made Nutty wonder if it could be turned into wine...wet and warm. But that tangent was not what was truly supposed to be in his mind. He was thinking about how mime would react to the Drug Addicted squirrel appearing on her window sill. In not too long, he would find out.

He rapped his fist upon the window, and Mime glared at the Window, in surprise. The look on her face said what she did not with words: "What the Hell are you Doing here?"

"Oh, come now, Mime!" he retorts, like those chauvanist heroes from the Westerns. He stepped into the room, and She visually protested, waving her arms around. He completely ignored this protest, examining the room he stepped into. It was the color of Salmon Flesh, with a variety of other pinks decorating the room, and posters of pop icons (Lady SchwaSchwa and Keßha among them) strung upon the walls. A Frilly, purple matress sat in the corner of the room. On a table in the opposite corner the matress, there was a magazine and Psychology book. Specifically, it was Alfred Kinsey's rants on sexual psychology.

Nutty couldn't help wonder if Mime was more gender confused than she appeared to be. Alfred Kinsey certainly wouldn't help.

Nutty reached into his pocket and pulled a ketamine pill out, eager to pop it in his mouth. Mime slapped it out the window, and Nutty glared at her. Then, he remembered her parents. He took his hand from his pocket, resisting the urge to take more sedatives.

"I stopped by to give you this." Nutty says, feigning innocence. He hands her a pamphlet with bright flags on the cover, which read 'Cultural Festival '10'. Mime unfolded it, examining the things it had to offer.

"Do you want to go with me?" Nutty asks.

Mime looks around, red cheeks showing through her white makeup. She was then in deep thought.

"Don't worry about deciding today." Nutty says, crawling towards the window. "I'll stop by tommorow. Let me know then." He says, once again descending the Wild Wine.

He ran the rest of the route, trying to distribute the pamplet in time.

**I'd appreciate your Input.**

**"I wouldn't." Rommel barks, slapping WKD across the face.**

**"Hey look! The Rwandan Navy!"**

**"Dumm Weissenheimer, there is no such thing as The Rwandan Navy!"**

**Rommel gets a large ragged hole torn in his arm moments later by the turret gun of a Rwandan Battleship, which waited upon the shoreline. WKD leaps off the frightened camel, and runs back into the Desert.**

**Phoenix, Flipped, and their respective OCs come storming from the beach in Military Attire. Scruff McGruff was leading them. **

**They come upon the still living body of Erwin Rommel. "Deadliving got you in this situation, didn't he?"**

**"Ja!" he shouts. Scruff McGruff helps him up ('coz everyone knows McGruff is a fascist bastard), and the group marches onward into the desert, united under the idea that 'My Enemy's Enemy is a friend of Mine!"**

**My enemy's Enemy's Enemy will kill you if you do not review.**


	7. One step forward, three steps back

**WKD sits in a dank apartment. **

**He strums a banjo. Yes a banjo.**

**"I've been demoted to an Indian playing a Banjo in a dark pit." he whines.**

**"Atleast they'll never find me."**

Nutty was once again on his usual route, with magazine orders out this time. The Street was now quite familiar to him, as he had passed through many a time. Same street lamp with the Swastika graffiti on it, same street sign which shed rust like the sky did snow,same Wild Wine stretching it's greedy tendrils to the ledge of the Window sill.

Up he scurried in a most squirrel-like manner (yes there is a technique to being a paranoid rodent). He sat, stooped upon the perch like an obese parrot. He rapped his hand on the window frame.

"Nevermore, Nevermore will you be confident burglars won't break in!" Nutty squawks in a gravelly voice. Mime smiles as she opens the Window.

Nutty steps into the overly feminine room with the Kinsey Sexology Books, and glances over at Mime. She was wearing traditional Doe Attire. She curtsies, asking with a non-existant voice for approval of the dress. Nutty nods.

"You do look stunning today." He compliments in a frank tone. "Now you make me look like a junkie." He smiles, pulling a Marilyn Monroe dumb blonde look from his hat.

She smiles, amused at his awkward face. "So, We'll go after my route is over?" he asks.

She nods, with a pleasent smile stretched across her face. Simple gestures like this meant a lot from a mute, especially a mute who was gender confused. Dogs and Horses also did things like this.

"See you later." Nutty says, descending the Wild Wine Ladder once again. And once Again, he returned to his route.

* * *

The Cultural festival was a collection of tents exhibiting cultural practices. Bears, Dogs, Kinkajous, Skunks, and etc. were displaying items from their culture. A Tiger proudly displayed a spear, and Russell waxed an Impressive Harpoon.

An Indian Slothbear was directing the Cultural Festival, and based on the way he was handling things, he might as well have thought he had three arms. Nutty was unaware of his name, but the Tent he operated from was near his.

The Sloth Bear barks at a British Pine Marten, "No Nuclear Club this year! You all gang up on the Amis!"

The Pine Marten sighs, and takes the poster entitled 'NBC Club' off his tent.

The Sloth Bear turns to look at Nutty, who was glaring at the scene as a Mother would two children fighting. The Sloth bear flips Nutty off, "Get off my Back, Ma!"

Nutty shrugs, not truly caring about the irritable Sloth Bear. He cared about the deer in the beautiful green dress, coming towards his tent. Despite Mime's gender confusion, she was quite beautiful.

"So, where is your tent?" Nutty asks, looking around. Mime twirls her hair, pointing a stand with a rack of Antlers hung over the entrance.

"Nice." he nods, further examining the Tent. It was a similar vegetation green as the dress Mime wore. Besides the Antler hung over the doorway, nothing besides that could distinguish it from another tent. She lead him inside, where a vast array of maps, pictures of stags fighting each other, and a Singular black-and-white photograph of a Doe and fawn on a Deer Reservation.

Sat upon tiny stools, numerous scented candles and herbal fragrances filled the air with the quaint aroma of a stand of Douglas firs, where small delicate orchids bloomed amoungst the Tough, weedy dandelions and bluebonnets. He pictured a Deer reservation, with a calm breeze enticing the long grass into a playful waltz. Dander drifted about on this playful wind, softly landing upon the water. The Azure sky had streaks of clouds off towards it's horizon, and not a bird flew about in the sky.

Nutty returned to the land when he heard gunshot. Nutty and Mime peek their heads out of the tents, and they see Bucky holding a gun to Fritzl's head. The Purple Beaver was sweating profusely. "He is finishing what they started in 1939. Can you not see He is going to kill us all! D'y'all notice the astounding lack of LGBT in the area recently?" He shouts hysterically.

Nutty glances down at Mime, who was also sweating like a hog. Nutty listened intently.

"Next, He'll get you Jews, and Tigers, and Squirrels!" He barks at the Back of Fritzl's head.

Nutty knew only somethings about Fritzl. He was a green beaver, from Germany, who was running in the upcoming election in November. People spoke about him as well as Bumpy, his running mate, in the way one spoke about Chuck Norris. His Political and Social skills were actually quite marvelous. Bucky was probably high.

Bumpy's henchmen came from nowhere with a golf club and pulled his arms down. The 9-iron made a sickening 'Wh-ack' as it broke Bucky's skull. Some people applaud the death of the purple beaver with buck teeth. Nutty did not. Mime was scared, her gaze was like that of...well, a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

Fritzl shook the Henchman, a Warthog,'s hand. He breathed a sigh of relief, and waved like Legendary JFK at Dealey Plaza. He suddenly spots Mime, and his smile sags into a frown. Mime pulls her head into the Tent, leaving Fritzl staring at Nutty.

The Beaver whispers something into the Warthog's ear, and the two leave, a crowd defeaning itself with plaudits in honor of the death of the Would-be assassin.

Nutty began to wonder what the hell the previous moments were about.

It was truly odd.

**WKD sips his Irish breakfast Tea, strumming 'Military Fashion Show' on the banjo.**

**"What can I do, what can I say, ...I am sad..." he pauses. "I miss the other Authors. I hope they miss me."**

**The Authors had held a small banquet after the deadliving's disappearence. Along with the Authors, Scruff McGruff, Erwin Rommel, The Happy Tree Friends, Sealand, and even a few Grimmsville Characters were invited. **

**Chunky lifts his glass of apple cider, and taps it gently, only to have it shatter in it's hands. Everybody turns their heads.**

**"If it weren't for Deadliving, we wouldn't be here right now. He has left for now, and we are thankful. Lift your glasses and drink deep from your cups. For we have apparently gotten rid of the Bugger."**

**Everyone cheers, except the large Claw Crane, who crashed into the wall after a bout of Drunk Driving.**

**Hallow raises her nub, standing. "Let us have a moment of silence for Boulder's friend Mason. May you remain forever in the safety of Heaven."**

**After a pause of respective silence. They continue feasting and being merry into the night, until Erwin Rommel starts making Jew Jokes.**

**Review, not just the Author's Notes, the Story, please.**


	8. Im in Hell

**I have a serious Authors note here: **

**I'm not feeling in touch with the Author inside me. My life ain't really helping. There is nothing wrong, but I am on hiatus for a while with Fanfiction. **

**I will be on dA and AltHist for the Most part. AltHist account is WienerBlut and dA is SpazzReflex, for those who don't know.**

**My Alternate History sucks, but people say my art is Good.**

Fritzl sat at the table, breathing nervously, chest rising and falling like waves. Slapsky, the Pink Kinkajou sat across the table from him, eyes focused intently upon Bumpy. Quilly, the red porcupine, sat next to Fritzl. She had no nervousness evident at all. She could take on Satan and win. Bumpy sat at the head of the table in his throne.

Bumpy raised a cloven hoof towards Fritzl. He whimpered like a dog, sweat beads dropping like rain. Fritzl knew that Bumpy knew. Bumpy was going to kill him.

"Fritzl, come over here." Says the Moose.

"Yes, sir" he chirps quickly. He runs from his end of the table to the side of Bumpy's throne.

The Blue moose had a most interesting history, raised in a trailer home, he got smart and decided to abandon the redneck way and get into Politics. Unfortunately, his bigottry had not been left in the Trailer park. He had a keen hatred of Gays and Deer. Gays were sick, unnatural, just a disgrace to all animal kind. Deer always got in the way. Whether they jumped in front of your car or in front of your oil drilling rig, they lost you money.

Bumpy only saw money. Gold bumped through his veins, his heart was a Wallet, and a cash register occupied his stomach. He mowed over his family's home for the sake of a few pennies worth of Zinc. He would kill an orphan to get to their piggy bank.

Bumpy started campaigns calling for an industrial and military economy. That is what got Slapsky, Quilly, and Fritzl on board. They did not know the Bumpy ship had already gone fascist. Eventually, Bumpy's charisma took hold and aborted morality in their souls.

"Fritzl," Bumpy said, patting Fritzl on the head. Fritzl felt a lump rise in his throat. He was on a promontory, ready to leap from the edge.

"You have been here with me since the beginning." Bumpy said in a frail, crisp voice. It was old, ragged like a grandpa's would be. "We all love you like a brother, don't we?"

He turned to look at Fritzl's face then at the audience of two. "Don't we!"

"Oh yes. Yeah. Sure. Like an incestuous brother!" the two gasp, trying to vie for Bumpy's attention.

Bumpy nods slowly, absorbing their servile voices. "Yes, like a brother who has committed incest..." Fritzl gulps, looking over the edge of the metaphorical cliff.

"Why can you not kill the last Faggot? It is so simple. God wouldn't have made it so easy to kill them if he really loved them." Bumpy says, leading to a point.

"Does that mean God loves him?" Fritzl asks. He didn't believe in God. It was a silly thing to believe in someone who would just disappoint you. If he believed in God, then this would've assured Fritz that God hated him.

Hooves come down upon Fritzl like an anvil. "NO!" the Hoof strikes Fritzl right in the nose. Blood sprays out like a cannon. He drops to the ground where he is kicked in the ribs. Snaps signal the failure of his ribcage. Blood dribbles from his mouth. there are more hits to his face before Bumpy ceases.

"Sir How are we going to explain this?" Quilly asks. She swings her head to look at Fritzl, dandruff flying off in Slapsy's direction.

Even in Fritzl's moment of pain, she looked down in contempt at the beaver.

Bumpy nods, placing a hand on his chin. Despite the beaver bleeding copiously at his feet, he had no qualms about the raging act of violence, besides the fact he lost a running mate.

"Slapsky, go alert the cheif of police that the Tranny just assaulted Fritzl. My new running mate is Quilly." Bumpy says with an oddly cheerful voice.

Slapsky runs away, and Quilly smiles. "I'd be obliged, sir."

"I wasn't looking for your approval of my decision!" He explodes at her, raising his bloody hoof at Quilly. She wore an emotionless face. "Now go out and kill that Tranny, before I decide to kill you."

Fritzl, still conscious, but so far beyond his pain threshold that he couldn't feel anything, saw Quilly's face remain grin and staid. But behind that facade cried a timid porcupine.

Some of her dandruff fell on Fritzl as he faded out of conscious.

**I did not aim the Authors Note at you specifically, Phoenix. I'm sorry for being a bugger.**

**And for all one of you that read Grimmsville, TToG's The Iliad's continuity will be puncuated by other pics and comics.**

**Ok Soweit?**

**Review or Flame or the National Socialist Butterflies will take you and your OCs to a Victorious Nazi world!**

**D:**


	9. Counting the Flies

**Hallo, People der Earth.**

**Deadliving is back temporarily, After prodding from my friend, Sam ('Tepid Flames' on here). Go ask him where the condoms went. Bitch took em again.**

**Happy Non-denominational New Years. For us NorEasters, i's a White NYE!**

**I reiterate, If you want to see what I'm doing instead of providing crappy stories for you guys, I am either on SpazzReflex on deviant Art, or WienerBlut on Alternate History . com**

**But anyways, Happy Remainder of Holiday Break!**

Nutty paced in the Snow. Mime had disappeared during Christmas.

He put another pill in his mouth and his senses began too blur together. Ketamine did not work like it used to with Mime around. It nulled the pain of loss, but made every emotion void. He kicked some snow around with his foot, drawing an erect phallus in the ice.

"Dick." He says slowly, sauteeing in his words.

"Wha would she go!" Nutty says, incoherently babbling, drowsy from the Ketamine. "I love that bitch, and she left be-vor I could say goodbye!"

A Light emerges from the trashcan, casting immaculate light on the empty park. Nutty twitches, edging closer to the trashcan. He peers over the edge into the source of the light. The Neck of a beer bottle poked from the refuse, and it seemed to be the source of the glow. It beckoned for Nutty, and Nutty did not refuse.

...

Nutty lay in the snow, booze dripping from his mouth. He forgot about the double depressant, which would drive him to a slow coma. As the Booze and the Ketamine worked their wonders, The Green squirrel lost his footing, and apparently split his head open.

Now on this Park Bench, he was bleeding from a massive wound in his head, unable to move. Instinctively, he knows the tears he is shedding will not be remembered after this death.

The tears freeze to his face fur, and his blood freezes upon the ground.

Quilly and Slapsky watched the Squirrel bleed out.

"Why did we kill this _hombre?_ He is not a fag." Slapsky said, Russio-Mexican accent breaking his English up.

"He should've known where the last Fag was." Quilly spits, no dignity for the lives she intended to destroy. "He was of no use."

"Should we have drugged him up, he already got some Supah K on him." Slapsky asks, letting his regrets hang out. "Should we really have killed him?"

Quilly wipes the blood off the golf club they used to trip him off his feet and make a dent in his head.

"Would you prefer it if I used this upon you?"

"No, Ma'am."

**Well, Happy New Years.**

**Goodnight.**


	10. Alice in Chernobyl Land

**Is thsi the Real life?**

**Is this just fantasy?**

**Am I quoting Queen?**

**Yes, Yes I am.**

**Lazarus commands thou to read the story he hast resurrected!**

**NAUGH!**

Mime slouched against the wall of the cheap motel. The place reeked to high heaven of Cigarettes and booze. The Stench was even worse inside the rooms. Bumpy and his Fascist Cheese Monkeys would never think of looking here for her, especially considering it was in Zweistadt, to the point she could smell Grimmsville from there, just over the stench of Vodka and Cubans. She looked into the deep violet sky, trying to serch for stars in the green hazy sky. The Grimmsen Country was a sight to behold; Chernobyl on LSD.

Seeing as any attempt to find the stars she had grown used to was futile, she entered her motel room. She sat herself upon the bed, with a lolling pattern of pink flowers upon an azure background on the blanket. She wrapped herself in the outdated comforter, and lulled off into a state of semi-consciousness.

She wondered quietly, as if she were sleeping. She wondered why she had to abandon Nutty. Why had she abandoned Happy Tree Town? Why was she running from The Big Brother on Mooseback?

She answered herself: He was in Happy Tree Land, He didn't understand Bumpy the Fascist's Hetero Reconquista, and she left because Bumpy would kill her.

_That night after Fritzl's Goons killed Bucky, Mime and Nutty had a fallout. Mime could not explain to nutty what the hell was going on..._

_"Mime, Speak to me if you are in need of saying something!" Nutty shouts_

_Mime shakes her head._

_"How can I help you if I don't know what's wrong?" He wags a finger in her face, which she slaps away._

_"Bitch! Leave if you have a problem!" Nutty shouts._

And Mime did so. She packed up her things and left_._

All the way to Zweistadt.

Laying beside her on a white cloth, a Magnum, loaded and ready for action if she chose to do so. Chose to _kill herself,_ that is. It had been her companion since her arrival in Grimmsen Country.

She lifted the gun and examined it closely. Beautifully crafted, if she had to chose anything to blow herself away. Then again, who said Maggie's Job was for Mime? There, holding the gun in the air, she decided just who the bullets were for.

**Short, and crappy.**

**But I intend to finish it up before the 16th, so expect atleast two more chappies sometime soon.**

**And oh yeah, Happy Belated Chinese New Year.**

**Review.**


	11. Butcher of Lyon

**Imperial Canuckistan, Canuckistan, CANUCK-IS-TAN**

**Imperial Canuckistan, **

**'Cause we are better than you,**

**Eh!**

Bumpy thought about the Elections occurring. Heart thumping, blasting a steady pace in his chest. He was not an elderly moose, but a good tuft of beard hung from his chin. His light blue fur was youthful, in total contrast with his eyes, with their swollen vessels and bags.

He knew instinctively no vote would be cast for his opposition, for the fact everybody was beaten into submission by Fritzl, Quilly, or Slapsky. Not even Hitler had been so sucessfull in the Polls after his version of Stalin's Purges. All was right with Bumpy's world. He tapped out "Battle Hymn of The Republic' with his hoof, quietly reciting the lyrics to himself,

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are store-"

"Bumpy, sir." Slasky peeps from below the arm of Lumpy's chair.

"Yes, Pink Kinkajou?" He growled, letting the words roll off his tongue. The Kinkajou winced, as if they were a lemon's nectar fallen into his face.

He turned away, and asked, "How are we sure nobody will vote for Mayor Fantastic, the Flying Squirrel?"

Bumpy recieved a mental image of Fantastic, with his red bandana on, and with his bandana off, the transition fom a man with a control Fetish to a Heroic Mayor. When he tried to help, he often hurt mort than helped.

"That bumbling Hero couldn't fasten his tie, let alone maintain a city," Which was true, unfortunately. "Either way, his votes came from _fags_." He added, sprinkling bitter hatred into_ 'fags'_. "What buisiness should an idiot like that have in any place. After Any remaining Gays, we go after useless homeless and poor. They have no use in society."

"May I make a suggestion, Sir." Quilly asked gingerly.

"What?" Bumpy demanded.

"Perhaps we accidentally gas the West half of town, under a cloak of night, then covertly kill the undesirables in the remaining partys of the city?" She explains.

Bumpy nods, approving of the statement, cruel and sick as it was.

"You are a spunky little henchman, _Heydrich_." He said, smiling. Slapsky gulped, trying to push his heart from his throat into his chest. Everyone in this posse had to be as evil as the Inventor of The Final Solution, lest they become a victim of it themselves...

He actually thought the plans were disgusting, atrocious even. But he can be Rudolph Hess, stay low enough to escape should worse come to worse...

* * *

As it turns out, there was one who would be voting for Fantastic. He popped Ketamine, had lime green fur, and a googly eye. He sat bandaged and traumatized, in a hospital cot. He was offered the voting booth right in his room.

Wheeling himself to the voting booth he sighed, defeated, and commited to the choice deciding the rest of his life...

**Not as short as the last one right?**

**Or just as short...damn, everything DOES look larger on Word.**

**Meh, well I have a new Poll on my Profile. GO VOTE!**

**The Next two chapters ought to wrap it up nicely.**

**Review!**


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